A Family Thanksgiving
by SciFiDVM
Summary: The group has a Thanksgiving dinner while on the run after episode 2.9


**Title: **A Family Thanksgiving  
**Show: **Revolution  
**Summary:** The group shares a Thanksgiving dinner on the run.  
**Spoilers:** Through 2.9 "Everybody Says I Love You"  
**Pairings:** some mild implied Miles/Rachel, some mild Bass/Charlie interaction that could be viewed as either flirting or immature sibling like joking around (you can take it whichever way you prefer)  
**Rating:** T  
**Disclaimer: **Revolution and its characters are property of NBC et al. My fanfic is purely for entertainment and I do not profit from it.  
**A/N: **A fluffy Thanksgiving piece that settled in my mind this morning while watching the parade.

It was slow going, trying to move and hide a group that large traveling long distance. But after the fiasco at the high school, there was no other option. Aaron had been inconsolable and nearly catatonic, Miles had been incapacitated by fever and infection, Gene's sole focus was doing whatever he could to save Miles, and Rachel was expending all her conscious effort attempting to will Mile's infection into remission. That had left Charlie and Bass to guide and care for the group of six highly wanted fugitives as they attempted to flee Texas.

They had divided the responsibilities, and while Charlie wrangled and supported her family, making sure they had food, remained together, and got them whatever supplies they needed, Bass managed their exodus. He knew it would make them more conspicuous, but since most of the group was in no condition to walk a few hundred miles, he had obtained a small wagon for Miles, Gene, and Aaron and riding horses for the rest of them. He had been constantly on high alert at all times, willing to only hand over the reins to the caravan to Charlie for a few scant hours each night to get just enough sleep to keep his body going. He accepted the responsibility diligently, and despite the toll it was taking on him, he shouldered the burden stoically and never complained.

After just over a week on the road Miles had finally turned a corner, and it seemed to take a load off of Bass. He was still straining the limits of his endurance, but his mood improved slightly and he allowed himself to rest a little bit more each night. Miles was still no use their group physically, but he was also no longer draining all the efforts of Gene and Rachel. This also took a load off of Charlie, as her family could now help care for themselves. Aaron had improved somewhat and was going through the motions, but was still taciturn and introverted.

They carried on for another week and had barely made it into the Plains Nation. The size of their group did tend to draw attention, so they were frequently having to stop, disperse, and take cover to avoid having their identities detected. November was drawing to a close as they found themselves taking cover in a dilapidated old farm as a snow storm was approaching. Charlie had gone out hunting while Miles and Bass tended to the horses and Rachel, Gene, and Aaron attempted to prepare the farmhouse for occupation.

She returned an hour later, triumphantly carrying a large wild turkey with an arrow through its chest. The house had a warm glow to it, as Aaron had started a fire in the fireplace and gathered enough wood to get them through a day or two. Monroe was outside chopping the surplus into usably sized pieces with his machete. Gene and Rachel were scouring the remnants of what had likely been a garden behind the house. It had been left to seed itself for many years and the fall weather was no help, but they were able to find a few edible remnants.

As the first flakes began to fall in moist clumps, the extended Matheson family all retreated into the farmhouse. Rachel helped Charlie dress the turkey and Gene set it up on a rotisserie spit in the fireplace. The vegetables and herbs Rachel and her father had picked simmered in pots on top of a small wood burning stove. Bass and Miles were sitting on a couch near the fire, talking strategy and sipping from a flask that Bass had provided. The downstairs of the farmhouse began to smell heavenly and had a warmth that extended beyond the heat radiating from the hearth.

Charlie plopped down on the couch between Bass and Miles and took the flask from Bass's hand without asking. She took a quick draw from it and handed it back silently. Miles ruffled her hair with his good hand.

"How long until the bird's done? I'm starving." She asked.

Rachel stepped up behind them and placed a gentle hand on both Miles and Charlie's shoulders. "Not too much longer."

Gene sat in a chair by the fire turning the spit. Fat was dripping off the meat in little droplets and collecting in a pan underneath. The sight and smell was mouth-watering.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Bass asked to no one in particular.

Miles answered. "Thanksgiving. '08."

"Yeah." Bass smiled wistfully.

Charlie looked to the adults and couldn't help but feel a little left out. "What?" She asked, breaking them out of their reverie.

"You wouldn't remember." Miles started.

"Only thing you were drinking out of back then was a baby bottle." Bass teased, holding the flask out of her grasp as she reached for it again.

She shot her mom a confused look.

"You were about one year old." She smiled at her daughter then turned to then men flanking her on the couch. "These two were on leave and showed up unannounced on our doorstep holding a bottle of wine and a frozen turkey in the middle of a snow storm."

"We were supposed to be on our way to Panama City, but the storm cancelled our connecting flight out of Chicago." Miles explained.

"Fortunately, we happened to know someone in the area, or else it would have been Thanksgiving in the airport." Bass grinned.

"We'd just got the turkey on the table when the storm took out the power." Rachel laughed.

Charlie smiled and relaxed back into the couch. The shared memories actually gave her the feeling of belonging to a real family for the first time in a long time. Miles reached across her and took the flask from Bass. Rachel walked around and sat on the couch's arm next to him. When Miles dropped the flask from his lips she reached over and put her hand over his, their fingers intertwining for a long second before she pulled the flask from his hand and took a sip.

Bass reached an arm around behind Charlie to shove Miles's shoulder. "This one was so drunk by that point he barely noticed."

"Yeah well… it was that or actually taste Rachel's cooking."

Rachel smacked his shoulder and Bass started laughing so hard he nearly fell off the couch.

"I'm sorry Rache. You're a woman of many talents, but cooking isn't one of them." Miles snickered.

Gene had seemed slightly tense as the story had started, but even he had seemed to warm up to the interaction.

"There is a reason I'm in charge of the turkey." He smiled at Charlie.

"Et tu Dad?" Rachel said with mock hurt in her voice.

"And speaking of the turkey, I think it's ready." Gene added.

Bass actually got up and helped Gene remove the bird from the fire and get it to the table. Rachel got the vegetables from the stove, and the rest gathered at the table. Once they were all crammed together around the small round table, Miles carved the turkey and they all took turns piling the other sides on their plates. Bass kept stealing pieces of turkey off Charlie's plate, mainly because it seemed to make her increasingly frustrated and he was fairly certain that she wouldn't stab his hand with the hunting knife she was using to slice her food.

"Seriously Bass? Do we need to set up a kids' table for you two?" Miles rolled his eyes.

"What did I do?" Charlie whined with impunity.

She was interrupted by Gene standing and banging a fork against his canteen. "Since this is as close as any of us have probably come to a real Thanksgiving in a long time, I was thinking that maybe we could go around the table and take the time to remind ourselves what we have to be thankful for during these difficult times." Off the accepting looks from around the table he continued, "I'll start. I'm thankful for being able to spend whatever time we have with the family that I have left." To his credit and in keeping with the spirit of the moment, he didn't direct any further commentary or accusatory glances at the man across the table still stealing food off his granddaughter's plate.

Rachel was to his right and spoke next. "I'm thankful for forgiveness, and those amongst us that are strong enough to grant it unconditionally." She looked at her daughter, who began to blush slightly. She also noticed that at her statement, Monroe dropped his head and aborted a further attempt to liberate a carrot from Charlie's plate.

Miles was next. "I'm thankful that Rachel didn't cook." The swat it earned him was worth it. "No, seriously…" He sobered. "I'm thankful that I'm still here." He looked down at his arm. "And that I'm here with all of you."

Bass swallowed a mouth full of food before taking his turn. "I'm thankful to still be alive." He looked around the table and then shot a suddenly worried glance at his plate. "Considering the company, should I be concerned about what's in my food?"

A fork shot out from his right and Charlie took a large chunk of meat from his plate and plopped it in her mouth. Around the masticated food bolus she added, "No, because you've been eating my food all night." She smiled a huge grin at him.

Bass sneered back at her then dropped his head and quietly continued. "And for the second… or third and fourth chances that you lot have decided to give me when you had no reason to." He only looked up from his plate when he felt Charlie's hand on his forearm.

She broke the eye contact and pulled her hand back to give her addition to the outpouring of gratitude. "I'm thankful to be spending the night in a warm house with a good meal and all my family and friends."

Then the group turned to Aaron, who had remained silent most of the evening. His face looked strained. "I'm… I can't do this." He stood suddenly and walked out of the room, his food untouched.

There was a tense moment at the table, as everyone was at a loss for how to comfort their friend.

"He'll be fine." Miles had felt the need to say something. He wasn't sure it was true, but he hoped it was.

"Someone should go check on him." Charlie insisted.

They all turned in surprise as Bass muttered, "I'll go talk to him." Not giving anyone a chance to question his intentions, he got up and followed out the front door Aaron had passed through.

On the front porch Bass wrapped his jacket tightly around himself and braced against the biting cold. Aaron was sitting on the front step, snowflakes already accumulating in his hair and on his jeans. He had turned at the sound of the door opening and scoffed when he realized who had followed him.

"Great. Because a fat joke is really what I need right now." Aaron muttered.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to talk, but if a fat joke is what you need…"

Aaron gave a sardonic laugh. "In what world would I ever want to talk to _you_?"

"I don't know." Bass sat down next to him on the step. "Maybe the one where I know what you're going through."

More rye laughter. "You're a psychopath that doesn't give a crap about anyone but yourself. How could you possibly know what I'm going through?"

"I'm going for reformed psychopath…" When he got no response he added. "It wasn't always this way."

"Is this the part where you tell me some sob story about how tragic circumstances made you the monster we've come to know and loathe?"

Bass gritted his teeth. He was actually trying to be nice, and this is what he gets. "I'm telling you that you're not the first guy on Earth, hell, you're not the first guy in this house, to lose the woman he loves and then get vengeful."

"Oh great. So I'm following in your footsteps. That makes me feel much better. Thanks."

"Fine. Stay angry. You want to make the same mistakes I did, you go right ahead." Bass got up, dusted off the light speckling of snow that had settled on him, and turned to go back inside.

"I'm not like you. Any of you."

"Excuse me?" Bass asked.

"You're… you. Gene sold out everyone his family cares about in some misguided notion of family values. Miles isn't innocent in all this, though everyone acts like he is. Rachel is responsible for turning off the power in the first place and then turning it back on so most of the surviving populace could get nuked. Now she and her dead husband's brother are hooking up and let's be honest, I helped raise Charlie, this probably isn't the first time for those two. And speaking of Charlie… I still remember her as a little girl in pigtails, and now she cuts apart men like… well, like you do. I don't want this. Any of this."

"Well tough shit, Google. You think any of us _wanted_ this? We play the hand we're dealt."

"Yeah, well, maybe it's time for me to fold." Aaron muttered.

"That family in there cares about you, and they're all that is standing between these Patriot assholes and complete occupation of this continent. They're willing to give _me_ the benefit of the doubt because of the way I can use a sword. You can take out an army in seconds with your little microscopic friends. Maybe it's not what you envisioned for yourself, but it looks to me like you've ended up right where you belong."

Aaron had no comment. Bass realized he had made his point. He reached a hand down to Aaron before adding, "Come on. Your food's getting cold, and we all know you can't have that."

Aaron glared at him, but accepted the hand anyway.

When they walked back into the house, Charlie was waiting by the door. She instantly wrapped he arms around Aaron and it melted his frozen demeanor just a bit. They all made their way back to the table and Bass huffed petulantly to find that his plate had been picked clean. Miles smiled and pulled out another full plate from behind his back and dropped it in front of Bass.

"You would have deserved it." Miles smiled at him.

Bass just rolled his eyes and dug in.

Aaron still missed Cynthia, and nothing anyone said was going to make him stop feeling the guilt from believing that her death was all his fault. He felt ashamed of his reaction of turning to vengeance instead of first thinking to ask the nanites to save her. But as he looked around the room, he realized the difference between his situation and the circumstances that had led to the damage affecting the broken people around him. As messed up as they all may be, he had them. He was surrounded by people that cared about him and each other. They may be a psychopathic former dictator, a murderous self-loathing former General, an adulterous and mentally unstable modern day Robert Oppenheimer, a Patriot patsy, and a child soldier, but as they sat around the table sharing a Thanksgiving dinner, he couldn't help but feel that they were a family. It was something that none of them had really had when their lives had gone off course. Now all those broken roads had led to a single path and they were walking it together. Just like any regular family, they all had their roles to play, and maybe his job was to remain the group's conscience. And to light people on fire with his mind. So their family was kind of messed up. But really, at the end of the day, nobody's family was perfect.

THE END

Happy Thanksgiving!


End file.
